The courtyard after lunch felt like a sigh the palace had been holding all morning—the willow branches drooping heavy in the afternoon heat, their green leaves casting dappled shade over the stone bench, the pond's surface still and mirroring the sky's deepening blue. Moon sat there a moment longer after the last lotus chip crumbled on her tongue, the sweetness lingering faint, her bowl empty and the tray cloth folded neat beside her. The air hung thick with jasmine from the vines twisting up the pillar, mingling with the broth's ginger echo, a quiet that wrapped around her like the wool blanket Hui-lan had draped over her knees earlier. The older woman's words—"mago"—still echoed soft in her chest, a warmth that bloomed slow, like ink spreading on rice paper, filling the cracks she'd carried too long without name.
Hui-lan rose then—smooth motion, robes falling straight, her hands brushing the bench clean of stray crumbs with that efficient grace. "The noble ladies will call for their afternoon tea soon," she said, voice prim but laced with that new tenderness, eyes crinkling as she gathered the tray. "I must attend. Rest here, mago, or return to the quarters if the shade grows long." She paused at the path's edge, glancing back with a look that held no command, just quiet care—the same hand that had squeezed Moon's knee now adjusting the stack of bowls on the tray. "The palace waits for no one, but it bends for those who bend with it."
Moon nodded—small, the smile tugging her lips again, the word "mago" fitting warmer now, like a robe tailored just for her. "Go on, Obāsama. I'll... wander a bit. Or nap. Yeah, nap." She waved light, watching Hui-lan shuffle off down the path, the older woman's steps measured, the tray balanced perfect, her Gray robes fading into the corridor's red pillars. The courtyard emptied then—koi splashing lazy in the pond, a bird calling sharp from the willow, the breeze rustling leaves like a secret shared. Moon leaned back against the bench, the stone cool through the wool, eyelids growing heavy as the sun dipped lower, pulling her under without fight.
Sleep came deep—deeper than the futon's pull the night before, wrapping her in a hush that drowned the palace's hum. She dreamed of the mountain again, the cold wind biting her cheeks like needles, whipping her hair across her face as she curled on the rock, knees to chest, the stars above indifferent pinpricks in black velvet. The silver light swirled like a veil torn loose, petals drifting down in luminous white, edges glowing faint as if lit from within. The flute's note echoed—fwooo—sweet and sharp, carrying her back to that moment before she vanished, and on her lips half-formed, "Take me... somewhere..." The wind pulled then, gentle at first, then strong, dissolving her to mist, the book's pages flipping wild in her mind, ink blooming on the blank: A New Fragrance From Another World. Her chest tightened in the dream—half-fear, half-longing, the scent of night orchid blooming velvet in her lungs, wrapping the ache like a lullaby she couldn't wake from.
The sliding door whispered open—shh soft, the sound pulling her from the mist like a thread tugged gentle. Gaoshun-sama entered with his usual measured steps, robes deep blue catching the evening's amber light, his face calm as ever but the lines around his eyes softened from the morning's edge. Hui-lan followed behind, a tray balanced in her hands, porcelain cups clinking faint as she set it down on the low table. The room's hush broke just enough for the steam to rise, green tea's aroma blooming fresh, chasing the dream's cold wind away. Hui-lan leaned over Moon then—her touch gentle as willow leaves, fingers light on her shoulder, shaking like waking a child from a nap too sweet to end.
"Child... it is time to rise," Hui-lan murmured, voice warm as the steam, her eyes crinkling with that fond patience, the tray's cloth folded neat beside her.
Moon blinked awake— shifted. Mumbled. The blanket slid down her arm as she blinked open one eye… then the other.
"…Mm," she murmured, voice thick. "Why is the sun… sideways…"eyes fluttering slow, hair mussed from the futon's tangle, "Did I… fall asleep for a bit?" she asked softly.
Her brows knit. "…It didn't feel long." the blanket twisted around her legs like a cocoon half-shed. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, the room coming into focus patch by patch: tatami glowing amber, paper screens casting long shadows, Gaoshun-sama kneeling across with his ledger tucked away, the tea cups steaming innocent.
Gaoshun-sama's gaze flicked toward the paper screens, where the light had turned deep amber, the day's gold faded to evening's hush. Hui-lan smiled faintly.
"You slept well. It is already the Xu hour."
Moon nodded automatically.
"…Okay," she said.
Then paused. Moon sat up straighter—futon creaking under her, the words landing like a bucket of cold water.
"Wait—what? Xu hour. Her voice cracked in disbelief, modern tone spilling out sharp, eyes wide as she glanced at the screens, the light too low, the shadows too long.? What even is a Xu hour??" "Like… is that supposed to be 5 p.m.? 6? She scrambled to her feet You guys don't have clocks?" —robes tangling at her ankles, hands waving frantic as she peered out the screen, the courtyard dark with willow silhouette against the fading sky.
Hui-lan's brows lifted—amused but stern, rising smooth to smooth Moon's rumpled sleeve. "In this palace, we mark the hours by the heavenly stems and earthly branches. You slept from the Wei hour until Xu. That is... many bells, child." Her voice held that patient lilt, like explaining rain to a kitten, but her eyes sparkled faint, the tray's tea forgotten in the moment.
Moon groaned—flopping back onto the mat with a thump, hands covering her face, the wool blanket bunching under her. "Oh my god… I'm living in a time zone nightmare. Xu hour? Wei hour? I need a translator app..." The words muffled out, half-laugh half-whine, her mind spinning the day's blur: bath steam, hallway snap, lunch warmth, then... black. The dream clung faint—the mountain's bite, the flute's silver call—but the room's hush grounded her, Gaoshun-sama's presence across the table a steady line in the haze.
Hui-lan shook her head—fond sigh, smoothing Moon's hair with fingers light as comb teeth. "Rest is good, mago. But if you sleep through the hours, you will miss the rhythm of the palace." She poured tea then—cup filling slow, steam rising to fog Moon's lashes, the green aroma chasing the grogginess away.
Moon peeked up through her fingers—cheeks flushed, grin creeping despite the confusion, the word "mago" landing warm again. "Obāsama... I swear I'm trying. But your time system is like... DLC content I didn't download." She sat up full, accepting the cup with both hands, the porcelain hot through her palms, sipping slow as the bitterness bloomed on her tongue.
Hui-lan sat beside her—mat giving soft, the tray between them like a small table. "Then you must learn, child. Slowly." Her voice stayed even, but the eyes held that tenderness, crinkling deeper as she sipped her own cup, the steam curling up to frame her face in mist.
Gaoshun-sama watched quiet from across—gray eyes steady, the ledger set aside, his posture relaxed just a touch, the evening light casting his shadow long on the tatami. The room felt fuller with them there—Hui-lan's warmth, Gaoshun-sama's calm, the tea's steam weaving between, the palace's hum a distant song outside. Moon sipped again—the green chasing the dream's cold, the confusion easing to a hum. Xu hour. Whatever. One step. The thread in her chest pulled gentle, the day's rhythm starting to feel like hers.
Disclaimer
This work is a fan-made story inspired by The Apothecary Diaries. The world, its canon characters, and original setting belong to their creators.
Moon, her journey, and all new scenes written here are entirely my own creations. This story is shared purely for love of the universe and for personal enjoyment. No copyright infringement is intended.